English 305
by H.dollz
Summary: The one where a student lusts after her professor, not knowing whether or not he feels the same way. A tale of spilt coffee, curse words, webcams, desks, and English literature. Actually, forget about that last one.


**English 305**

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To be honest, I just really want his dick. Preferably right now, in whatever orifice he prefers.

I know I sound like some some sex starved teenage girl but, on the contrary, I am actually a sex starved young adult, as of two months ago, when I had turned 20.

But that's besides the point.

The point is ever since I started taking this godforsaken English class, ever since I walked in through the large double doors leading to English 305 and some idiot freshman bumbled into me and made me spill my coffee down my tee shirt, and I saw him for the first time - approaching me with a wad of tissue paper to help mop myself up - I had fallen totally in lust.

It wasn't natural. No one was that good looking. Especially not your professor.

I had stood there for a good 10 seconds, staring into his eyes, which were the same colour as my coffee before it had transferred from the cup to my shirt, and eventually he had taken the wet coffee cup out of my hand and replaced it with the tissues. His hand briefly touched mine and if I kept a journal, I would've written about it.

It had felt like electricity but in a good way and when I told Trish that she laughed so hard she choked on her spit but I didn't care because-

It had felt like electricity, okay?

I mopped myself up, trying to tame the urge to maybe ask him if he had a girlfriend. As if a girlfriend or lack of would change anything. I was student-zoned forever.

Anyway, as I sit here now, in the very back tiered row, on my own, with no supplies other than my laptop which I am actually using to catch up on what's going on in random celebrities lives, sipping my coffee, listening to his deep voice ramble on about some random shit that I'm not sure I care about anymore, I just...

I want him. Really bad.

**XxX**

Yeah, I liked Professor Moon - so did everyone else. He was very chill, really easygoing, but at the same time kind of... Stern. This sternness had influenced a countless amount of dominance fantasies but that was besides the point. He had that smiley eagerness that hinted he was just out of college himself; so he was 23, maybe 24?

Anyway, he was one of the youngest professors at the university, and I wasn't sure if that was what drew me in or the fact that he was so intelligent, or how messy his blond hair always was, or the fact that he kind of had a dirty mouth.

"Miss Dawson, would you fucking pay attention?" was a sentence pretty high up on his Most Used Phrases list. Not that I kept one, of course.

Anyway, I fucking loved when he said that because it showed that he was paying enough attention to me to know that I wasn't paying any attention to him. Also, his lips were always curved into a small smile as he said it. I wanted his lips over every inch of me oh my God. Hearing him say the word 'fucking' was pretty great, too.

Almost every time, I'd smirk and reply with a clear, "sorry, Mr. Moon."

"Austin," he'd correct me with a sigh, for what must be the billionth time.

Another thing about him was that he let his students call him by his name. He more than let them - he wanted them to call him by his name.

"Austin," I would repeat.

**XxX**

"Triiiisssshhhhh," it's half nine in the pm and we're both slumped across a couch, in the living room of our apartment.

"Ally," she replies curtly, barely looking up from her phone. She probably texting a boy. Because boys her age interest her. Because she's normal, goddamn.

"I want him."

"Go get him," her voice is a blank monotone, but to be honest, I really don't expect more of her at this point. We've been roommates for 2 years and I've annoyed her about my need for my English professor for all of them.

Still, I'm pissed. "You know I can't," I huff.

She looks up from her phone. "There's a party on tonight, you wanna come? Get him out of your system?" She smiles as she talks, trying to convince me, but-

"No thanks,"

-I can't.

She frowns. "Ally, I know you like him a lot but maybe if you just met some other-"

"I don't want anyone else, Trish. Besides, I have work tonight."

She sighs and nods. "Okay. Okay." I stare at the ground, arms folded as she gets up. She pats my head as she walks by me. "I still think you should just sit on his lap one day. That'll get a reaction out of him."

I roll my eyes. "I can't. You know I can't. What if he doesn't like me that way? I'll ruin everything, things will be so awkward and-"

"Okay, okay. I get it. Now her to work, it's almost ten."

"Right," I mutter, walking towards my bedroom, dragging my feet as I go.

**XxX**

I always liked to shower before I started. Showers seemed to posess magical qualities that helped calm me. Not that I needed much calming; after nearly two years on the job, I was somewhat of a pro.

I left my hair wet and tied a towel around myself, sitting on my bed and I got my lapropos out and set up my webcam. The little bar above the screen where I would be shown in a second read (90 online).

I remimded myself that more people meant more money and turned my webcam on before letting my towel drop. I smirked as I saw the amount of people online skyrocket.

"Hello, boys."

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**I'm not really sure if this is gonna be a two shot or three shot or multi chap, I guess I'll just figure that out along the way. Thank you for reading!  
**


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